A Cow's Tale

A Cow’s Tale

Tailing is when you grasp the cow’s tail about one hand length up from the cow’s butt. You lift the tail straight up and wrap or twist the tail to keep the cow from kicking. You can even tug on it to make the cow move to you for milking. This information is why I am alive today and why I may die tomorrow.

You already know milk is an excellent source of calcium, protein, B vitamins, potassium and of course vitamin D. Humans were originally lactose intolerant, but about some 2.5 billion people have evolved to accept milk. Dairy is everywhere, you have dairy even when you don't know you're having dairy; the nougat in your Three Musketeers bar, the sugar used in trident gum, the batter your chicken was dipped in before it was fried, all made from milk. Which made it the perfect weapon. Besides, what’s more innocent, more wholesome than milk? It does a body good! Got milk? Dairy Farmers of America paid big bucks for those campaigns.

A form of cholera that binds itself to lactose developed. Of course we didn't know that right away about 5 billion people had to die before we figured it out. People who had trouble digesting the lactose developed the most severe symptoms, death was quick and without dignity.

Paranoia broke out pretty quick. “Big Dairy” was at fault, and farmer’s associated with organizations like Dairy Farmers of America had their farms destroyed in riots and protests. The nation of India was practically a blaze since they produce so much of the world’s milk. Eventually most governments were overthrown and regional leaders took their place..

So how does holding a cow’s tail keep me alive? Great question. Our infrastructure was ruined by the devastating disease and riots, but now that only the lactose tolerant people were left standing, anyone with a small farm and the means to make food was valuable. My farm was seized and tall privacy fencing was built around the property line. We were the face of the murderers who took away their loved ones. My guards let me know every day. My name is Shelley, but no one really calls me that any more.

The barn door creaked open. “Get up. Let’s go line up” Officer Hopkins called out. As he and the other guards came into the barn.

You see, I have to live with the cows now. I live in a locked barn with my fellow farmers. Once the proud backbone of society now slaves to the masses.

We had to stand in line in the center of the barn while guards inspected our sleeping stables and persons.

“Arms out.” Hopkins ordered. They checked us before we began work each day to make sure we didn’t have a weapon or anything of value.

Three years ago, he bought me a heart shaped locket on our one-month anniversary of dating. Now he pats me down with a head lamp blinding my eyes every morning making sure he gets to second base. Knowing full well I wouldn’t let him when we were sophomores in high school. It only took a world-wide pandemic and the fall of society but he rounded first. Good for him. The “lactose intolera” as trendy news stations came to call it, had changed everything.

“Stables are clear” The guards behind me shouted.

“Farmers clear” Hopkins’ superior belted out.

“All clear, move out!” the head watch men called.

Dairy farming starts a few hours before sunrise. First you… oh I mean I milk the cows this takes until just after sunrise. Then, breakfast. Not for me of course, the cows. The cows are always first. I bring the hay and feed to each stable. As well as, make sure the water troughs are fresh and full. Next, I take some of the milk and put them in baby bottles and feed the calves. That should take me to about mid-day. After that I take the remaining milk I milked to the pasteurizer. I run the machine heating and cooling the milk and bottle it after the inspector checks it. Would be late afternoon by then and if you aren't a dairy farmer you’d think that’s it, but no. Cows need to be milked twice a day. So, I get to milk the cows again and bring it to the pasteurizer before I get my daily meal of milky oats. By that time the sun is setting, if it's winter time it’s been dark for hours, so, you sleep. Rinse and repeat. All of this under the watchful supervision of guards. My little farm was producing more than twice the milk it had before everything fell apart. Tyrannical rule sucks but hey, it's efficient.

Resistance, while not futile, was probably somewhere between marginally effective and ineffective. You see they say if you hold a cow’s tail too tight when you milk it, it won’t produce as much milk as if you hold a loose grip. Well me and my fellow prisoners have been white knuckling it. Tom Whitney or “Wit” as we call him thought if we could covertly slow production that our imprisonment would have to end.

“If they can't feed everyone from us they will have to contribute as well. Once we share the same plight and cause freedom will come” he preached.

It had been a few months and my grip grew strong, but there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. So, tomorrow we light our own light. Which brings me to how this vital information on “tailing” might cause me to die tomorrow.

Whispers went around to not tail any of the cows and to try to time hard pulls to use the only weapons we have: Clarabelle, Bessie, Brownie, Dottie, Petunia and the other cow’s kicks. If we can disarm the guards some of us might be able to grab weapons and if we are lucky we can take the main farm house. After that the plan is to find a vehicle and to escape to a new town where no one knows we were dairy farmers.

“Get up. Let’s go, line up”

We shuffled to the center of the barn for inspection just like every other day. Hopkins was inspecting other farmers today so I was slightly less violated this morning.

“Stables are clear”

A few moments later…

“Farmers clear”

“Alright, we are all clear, move out!” the head watch men called.

As I placed my stool and glanced back I could see nobody was tailing their cows.

“Get started!” my guard proclaimed.

My back was to all the other farmers. The uncertainty of when we would start was killing me. I was anxiously milking and listening for any sign of commotion. Minutes of nothing. It was killing me. I filled my first pail and as I reached for the next the guard near me sneezed. It was as if Brownie was an expert tactician. She let out a startled “Mmmmmmmmmm”

She threw her leg back and struck my guard. Heart pounding, I dropped the empty bucket and threw the full bucket at the fallen guard. White splashed everywhere as the bucket smacked into his forehead.

Cows began leaping almost on to their hind legs and running in all directions.

I leaped on to my milky victim, sliding like a child running and jumping on to a wet soapy tarp placed on a hill. I was a good foot and half past his head when I stopped moving. Both of us now covered in milk and hay with our eyes locked fully conscious that neither of us had control over his weapon.

Gun fire erupted and I could also see the guards at the barn doors taking defensive positions. Brownie was hit a few times and coughed blood into my face as she fell on my guard. I grabbed his rifle and laid behind her firing blindly at the barn doors. The other cattle now charged the doors bursting them wide open.

Since phase two of our master plan was basically run for your life, I did. My starved body found energy resources that I didn't know I had and as I cleared the barn. My legs kept moving quicker and I could see the fence between myself and freedom.

I leaped up grabbing the top of the fence, pulling myself over. When I landed I was shocked at what I saw. The town had been reduced to rubble and by the looks of it a while ago. A steady stream of milk flowed from the property into a nearby river mixing in a coagulated estuary of dead fish. Every day was for nothing. There was a loud thud and the fence shook behind me. I turned to see it fall and as I was stumbling backwards to avoid the collapsing fence, I fell. Clarabelle’s hooves came down on my chest, she continued to run off. Her tail was the last thing I saw.